Radioactive
by better-in-black-since-1234
Summary: The world has ended. This is the Apocolapse. Welcome to the New Age. The Age of The Demons.
1. prolouge

The first to wake was the smartest, the second his best - and only - friend. He quickly deduced what had happened, and cursed the only other that had truly loved him. He screamed the name into the toxic wind, cursing him for leaving him. For dying for him.

For leaving him to this infected land.

His only friend sat and watched as the man screamed till his throat went raw and his heart was shattered. Only then did he come forward and pick up the crushed remains. He dried the tears, cleaned the blood away and wiped the dust of his face.

Together they walked into the battlefields.

-R.A.D.I.O.A.C.T.I.V.E-

The third to awake was a solider. The fourth woke seconds later the fifth not to far behind him. The brothers were confused and angry, shouting at the heavenly partner, demanding to know what had happened.

When he told them, they mourned. Many tears fell that night, for the lost and damned souls, that were forever condemned for a life of suffering.

They swore revenge on those that destroyed the only home they have.

On the beasts that ate the flesh of fallen humans.

On the monsters that dared to hunt down and kill their family.

They swore they would take back what belonged to them and kill anything that got in their way.

They would not fall. They never fail.

-S.U.P.E.R.W.H.O.L.O.C.K-

The sixth was never asleep. He felt hat had happened deep in his bones. He knew immediately what had happened. Tears of grief pooled in his eyes. He knew that another world had been destroyed. He took his companion and escaped from the world they were on, only to arrive on a planet that had been permanently broken. When his traveling companion stepped out, she took in the battle field. She questioned the man, wanting to know, to understand. The man didn't turn, he stared out at the planet he loved as their tears fell onto the dry, cracked ground. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the young woman. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

Then he spoke, his voice breaking through the silence:

"Welcome, to the New Age"


	2. Chapter 1: The Battle Feilds

The last thing Sherlock remembered before he was asleep, was the way the ground shook as his brother led them into the warehouse then underground and into an iron room with strange runes carved the walls, there in the middle of the room, were two pods with multiple circles of what appeared to be rock salt around them.

After that he remember Mycroft shoving John in a pod then pushing some buttons, then he held open the door to Sherlock's pod.

"When you wake, go straight to John's pod and type in 7437. Do you understand me? Sherlock!" his voice raising as he griped his younger brothers shoulders

Sherlock blinked then nodded

"See that case over there?" he pointed to a large black box in the corner on the room "Do not leave without taking everything in there, read the journal" He looked at his brothers face, the ash from the fires outside coated their clothes and faces. Mycroft's hand wiped futilely at the ash the coated his brothers cheeks, the tears in his eyes making wet tracks across his own.

"Remember this, okay? It's important that you do not forget what I have told you. I'm so, so sorry" and with that he shoved Sherlock in the pod and closed the glass lid. As drowsiness washed over him he saw Mycroft take out a black hand gun, then slam the iron door as he left. His eyes closed, he heard gun shots and animalistic screams but he paid no mind to them, because his brother was out there. He would keep the monsters away, he promised he wouldn't let the demons under the bed catch him.

He promised.

-end flashback-

But what he did know was that he needed to get out of this small pod, now.

He hit the thick glass with his hands and his knees, knowing that it wouldn't do anything, but his heart had started beating harder, he was breathing quicker and his eyes were wide. He needed to get out, it was the only thought in his head.

The walls seemed like they were getting impossibly smaller, closing in on hm. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to stop the panic he felt in his chest. When it was somewhat normal Sherlock began to feel around the edges of the pod, logic telling him that there had to be a way out. His brother wouldn't have shoved him in a small, confining space without an easy escape.

His hands started at the edge of the glass near his head and felt down towards his feet. Somewhere near his shoulder a cold metal lever bumped his hand, he almost flinched from the unexpected touch. With his eyes still firmly closed he pushed it down.

The glass started to lift, much to slow for Sherlock who put his hands on the glass and pushed it open all the way, then heaved him self out of the pod. His legs shook under the weight of his body, Sherlock quickly grabbed on to the edge of his pod to keep himself from falling.

After a few minutes he pushed himself away from his pod and stood in the centre of the circular room, between the two pods.

Looking around the room he saw that everything was the same, the runes were still carved into the walls, the two salt circles were on the floor, on the outside circle the salt had been disturbed but still remained in a complete circle. The black box had been pushed over and was covered in long, deep scratches. The iron door lay crumpled like a piece of paper on the floor, covered in an unidentifiable substance.

A bashing shocked him out of the observations he had been making, he turned toward the sound and saw that John was awake and hitting the glass with his hands. Sherlock looked down at him and mouthed the word

'leaver' and pointed at a space near John's shoulder. The smaller man looked than shook his head, Sherlock frowned then looked at the small screen. He realised that this must be what Mycroft was talking about , he quickly typed in the four numbers. The glass started to come up and Sherlock curled his fingers under the edge and pulled to help it come up faster.

John sat up, swinging his legs over the edge. He ran a hand down his face and looked around the room.

"What happened?" his voice was hoarse, from sleep and disuse.

"I'm not quite sure" Sherlock replied, leaning on the edge of John's pod, "don't step down yet your legs will still be weak"

"Where's Mycroft?" the question hung in the air, Sherlock knew what happened to him, he just didn't want to admit it yet, "Don't worry, I'm sure he's just late" John put a hand on his shoulder, he was quick to shrug it off.

They both knew Mycroft was never late. Sherlock memories of before their sleep were all pointing to one option, he refused to look at it.

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Mycroft wanted us to look in the box" both glanced over to the damaged case, "he wanted me to read his journal"

John slipped to the floor, twisting Sherlock's coat in his hand to keep himself upright. They made their way over to the black box, John stumbling and Sherlock putting a hand on his elbow to help him along. When they got to the box the grabbed the silver handles on either side to flip it back on to it's base.

Absently Sherlock took note of the symbols deeply carved into the wood on the lid and sides, the silver handles and iron locks.

"Mycroft gave these to me" he heard John say, "a couple weeks ago" when he turned to face him, John was taking off a silver chain, on it were two keys. He handed the keys to Sherlock, who used them to unlock the large locks on the box. The metal pieces clattered to the floor, echoing through the room. The men opened the black lid and let in fall open, revealing the mess inside.

Together they emptied the box, sorting the contents into piles. The large amount of weapons; guns, knives, bullets and stakes were handed to John who sorted into piles of their own after he checked them.

Next came bottles and casks of water with crosses and beads in them, Sherlock placed them next to the weapons.

The last items were two back packs and the journal.

Sherlock opened the journal and began reading while John started to sort the weapons into three piles. One pile mainly bullets and some guns and knives were placed into the bags .

The next pile he started to put on himself, two guns were put inside his coat and two knifes as well. A hand grenade was placed in his pants pocket. When he looked up Sherlock was staring at him, the journal open in his hand.

"You'll want one of these" he said them chucked a cask at him.

"What is it?" John asked while examining the bottle

"Holy water"

"Why?"

Sherlock didn't answer, he flipped the page and two necklaces were sitting on the page. He picked one up and handed it to John, the other he put around his own neck.

"What's happening Sherlock?" John looked up from the cross on his necklace, "why do we need Holy water and crosses?"

"According to Mycroft's Journal, it's for demons" Sherlock kneeled down and started to put the rest of the weapons inside his coat, he picked up to bottles of holy water and put them in his coat to. "Mycroft says that we have been sleeping for 12 years and in that time the apocalypse came and went. Monsters will try to kill us when we leave this room, we need these to keep them away"

John picked up the bag closest to him and passed the other to Sherlock who shrugged it on.

"Come on"

Slowly they moved towards the door, one out of it the saw the old stairs they had climbed down, the stairs were rotting but still held their weight as they climbed upwards.

The darkness was slowly fading away as they got closer to the surface, then finally they were at the top of the stairs. The sight that greeted them did not give them hope for their survival.

It was a war zone. The keyword being was. The buildings that had once been the grand city of London were destroyed, reduced to pitiful excuses of what they use to be. Ash covered everything, making the whole scene seem dirty, strange stains splattered the sidewalks, roads and the walls. The most terrifying thing was the skeletons and rotting bodies. They were everywhere. Spread all over the place, limbs and bodies separated, not a whole body in sight.

Something had tared them apart.

"Oh my God" was the only thing John muttered before he knelt over and vomited. He felt Sherlock's shaking hand on his back and could hear his heavy breaths.

John clutched at his stomach, "What the hell did that?" he whispered

"I -I..." John looked up at Sherlock, who was crouching next to him, as he watched Sherlock fell backward on to his but. He was running his hands through his hair, gripping at it tight, his face had gone pale and his eyes were wide. John followed his gaze and saw a black handgun, half covered in dirt and ash.

"J-John" he stuttered

"Sherlock look at me" John reached for him but Sherlock skidded back, away from him, "Sherlock"

"He, he promised, John" Sherlock's gaze fell to him, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

"It's okay, Sherlock. He might still-" John came closer to him

"No" Sherlock glanced back at the gun, the tears began to run down his face. He stood and whirled away from John so suddenly that his coat whipped out and hit John in the face. The backpack fell from the Sherlock's shoulders, it hit the ground with a loud thud.

"YOU PROMISED" Sherlock screamed, his voice echoing around the ruins, "YOU SAID YOU WOULD BE HERE!"

John could only sit and watch, as Sherlock fell to his knees and started to cry.

The tears ran down his face and left dark drops in the blood stained dirt.

His eyes were red, stinging from the tears that spilled over his eyes.

His face was pale from grief.

His shoulders shook with every gasping sob that escaped his throat.

An hour passed and Sherlock's shoulders still trembled, but the tears had stopped.

John slowly rose from the seat he had taken on the old gutter and silently padded over to Sherlock.

He stood next to him, looking down at his friend. The army doctor squatted down and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, Sherlock didn't look up.

"Come on, look at me Sherlock" John coxed, when Sherlock didn't move John took Sherlock's chin and turned his face towards him. John didn't smile as he wiped away the tear tracks. He took Sherlock hands and brushed away the dirt from his palms, he tutted when he saw the bleeding marks that Sherlock fingernails had made.

"Stand up" this time Sherlock obeyed, he stood slowly. John could hear the popping his bones made as the muscles stretched. John brushed the dirt away from his knees then stood as well.

"Time to go now" John began to walk into the city, he heard Sherlock's footfalls behind him slowly trailing after him.

Time slowly passed, and the two walked a familiar route through London.

As they walked John looked at the streets, there were cars over turned and buildings had crumbled, thick thorned plants grew up the buildings and through broken windows. Weeds and long grass grew in the cracks of the road and the pathway. Trees without leaves or life stood motionless between the buildings. Skeletal bodies were spread everywhere.

They turned the corner to a familiar street, and wandered down the cracked pavement to their old apartment.

John stood in front of the relatively untouched building until Sherlock caught up and stood next to him.

"I don't under stand, why hasn't 221b been destroyed as well?" John looked at the rest of the street, the other building had been destroyed and were growing the thorned plants. 221b looked like a palace compared to the other buildings surrounding it.

"Can you smell that?" Sherlock asked, his nose scrunched.

"What?" John frowned and smelled the air, now that Sherlock mentioned it there was a strange odour in the air. He couldn't identify what the smell was though, even Sherlock looked confused as to what it could be.

They stepped towards the door, there were deep gashes covering the door, but the gold numbers were still in place. John reached for the door but before he could touch it the door swung open. For a second John thought Mrs Hudson had opened the door, but when he looked in no one was there.

They stepped into the apartment, the door closing gently behind them. John glanced up the stairs to where they use to live, while Sherlock made his way into Mrs Hudson's old apartments. John silently followed him. The air in the apartment seemed to move around them, flowing one way then being pushed the other way. The wooden floors sent out small vibrations.

Sherlock looked up at the roof where the light was shaking slightly, "It's alive" as he watched the light grew brighter.

"The house?" John groaned and ran a hand down his face, "Can't we ever have a normal life?" the house gave a little creak from underneath them.

"You _had_ a normal life John" Sherlock said, turning around to face him.

"What we did wasn't normal" John continued to walk past him. With Sherlock acting like this ignoring him was the best option.

"You know damn well that wasn't what I was talking about" Sherlock frowned

John knew that Sherlock was still upset about his brother and that Sherlock was turning that sorrow into anger, he knew he should ignore whatever Sherlock says, "Don't"

"You had the life you 'dreamed' of, but as soon as I was there, you were begging to come back"

"I never said that" but some things Sherlock said he couldn't ignore

"You didn't have to, I could see it" Sherlock stepped closer to him

"Sherlock" John warned

"When she was out of the picture you came crawling back to me-"

"She died Sherlock! She wasn't just 'out of the picture', _she died_!" John didn't want to argue while Sherlock was still grieving his brother, but he could let Sherlock get away with everything just because he was depressed.

"It's all the same to you John, she wasn't what you really wanted"

"And what I wanted was you?!"

"Yes" Sherlock didn't even pause when he gave his reply

"I cant believe- You left me _first! You died_" beneath him the house groaned as if she understood the pain.

"I never died"

"I _thought_ you did, you left me for three years. Then _you_ came crawling back to _me_"

"No" Sherlock shook his head

"You didn't have to come back, but you did. You didn't have to waltz back into my life, but you did. You couldn't stay away. Whose really doing the begging here Sherlock?"

"It's certainly not me" Sherlock glared down at him. John scoffed and pushed Sherlock out of the way and began to walk away. "You can't walk away from me"

John shook his head and didn't turn around, the house creaked more the louder their voices grew

"John"

"John!" Sherlock yelled though the house

"Where are you going!?" He yelled when he saw John push the door open, the house made a shuddering groan noise but John ignored it, instead he yelled back at Sherlock as he stepped out,

"Away from you!", he began to walk down the pathway

"You can't just walk away!" Sherlock yelled from the doorway

"Yeah? Watch me!"

"John, this is the bloody Apocalypse!"

John turned to yell at him, walking backwards "To bad it didn't wipe out your ego!"

It was then the creatures attacked. They came from the shadows, at least twelve of them. The last thing John heard was Sherlock yelling his name and a high pitched almost-scream of 221b

"John!"

**Okay, so here's a bit more insight on how our favourite detective and his blogger survived the apocalypse. (I'm sorry, I kinda stole the idea from startreck…)**

**The Sherlock/John fight scene was written while I was listening to 'Someone like you' by Adele (does anybody else realise how well that song fits in for Sherlock!? It's insane, I've found myself listening to in more and more now because of that)**

**This could be taken as a pre-Johnlock if you want, I'm trying to make as many people happy as I possibly can, so Johnlock fans GO CRAZY! I even managed to shove some Mycroft & Sherlock brotherly love in their...somewhere...maybe if you squint... and turn your head a little... Okay, yes there is heaps… I'm don't regret anything.**

**Also I'm thinking of uploading small extras, all in this AU, what do you think? I already have one for this chapter it's called 'demons under the bed' basically telling us about how Mycroft found out about the monsters (sorry if you didn't pick up on that, I thought it was a bit obvious...) tell me if you would like to see them.**

**If you see any mistakes, please tell me.**

**I have been told that in some cases I'm as bad as The Devil (aka Moffatt, for those that didn't pick that up) in plot twists and cliff-hangers... if I can get the right words out in stead of having a bloody word vomit, anywho what I'm trying to say is that take note of all the little details otherwise they will come back and bite your ass.**

**Next chapter- Never Fall, Never Fail (Supernatural)**

**~'Shadowhunters: Looking Better In Black Than The Widows Of Our Enemies Since 1234.'**

** -Jace Wayland, City of Bones, Cassandra Clare.**

** (read the book, watch the movie...NOW!)**


	3. Chapter 2: Never Fall, Never Fail

**SORRY! I know I haven't updated in ages, but it's the last week of school before we have exams, and all my assignments are due! I'm really nervous about writing the next chapter, I haven't watched much Doctor Who and I'm freaking out cause I don't want to get his character wrong! So if anyone has a few pointers for me please share!**

Chapter 2- Never Fall, Never Fail

~Supernatural

"DEAN!" the angel yelled over the noise, "SAM!"

The ground was shaking, but the angel didn't take notice as he ran to the hotel room.

Castiel threw the door open, the lock clattering to the floor of the empty room.

Black smoke was rising into the sky and blocking out the sun, the smell of sulphur filled the air.

Screams were heard over the rumbling from beneath them.

Castiel did a quick glance around the room; Sam was slumped over in the kitchen a small amount of blood seeping from an injury on his head. The bathroom door was closed, Castiel pushed it open and found Dean laying on the tiled floor, his shirt half unbuttoned and missing his boots. He was unharmed, but barely awake.

"Dean" Castiel called and walked hurried into the small room, helped him to stand and held his arm as a more vicious tremble made the room shake.

"What's happenin' Cass" Dean slurred, he must have hit his head on the floor Castiel thought as he helped Dean out of the room.

"The Apocalypse" Castiel told him bluntly, "I need to get you to safety, get as many weapons as you can carry"

"Where's Sam?" Dean shook his head to clear it and quickly stumbled to his bag, grabbing a few weapons on the way.

"He's in the kitchen" the angel answered

"Well don't just stand their Cas!" Dean spared a moment to glare at him, "Go and get him!"

"He's unconscious" He told the hunter as he disappeared into the other room, then quickly came back carrying the younger hunter. By the time the angel had returned Dean had packed his bag and was holding another empty one.

The hotel room began to shake dangerously; dust falling from the ceiling, the walls creaked louder.

"OUT, NOW!" Castiel yelled and grabbed hold of Dean; they reappeared outside just out of the range of the collapsing building.

"I need to get some stuff from baby!" Dean yelled to Cass

"NO!" the angel yelled back, "we need to leave now!"

"I'll only be a few seconds!" Dean ran to his car and opens the boot, quickly grabbed as many weapons, ammo, artefacts' and ingredients as he could and shoved it into the empty bag. He gave one last longing look to his old car and slammed the boot shut then ran back to where Castiel was waiting. A loud scream caught Dean's attention; he turned his head and came face to face with an army.

They didn't wait for Dean to prepare himself, they just ran at him.

There were at least fifty of them.

All with black eyes.

Castiel saw the demons and spread his wings, preparing to fly. The demons were closing in on Dean, but he was faster than them. In a blink of an eye he was standing next to him, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder, he flew.

He flew towards the men-of-letters base, knowing that the headquarters was protected against everything, even him.

'NO!' a voice screamed through his head, Castiel's wings froze as searing pain shot through his head. With a yell he attempted a safe landing, but landed heavily, with nearly enough force to break a humans leg. Beside him Dean yelped. Sam's unconscious body fell to the ground as Castiel doubled over and brought his hands to his ears as though that would block out His voice.

'PROTECT THE RIGHTEOUS MAN CASTIEL! TAKE THEM AWAY!'

Castiel couldn't hold back the scream as His voice ripped through his head. Blindly he reached for Dean, and then Sam once he had a hand on each he flew them as far away as he could.

Then everything went black.

Hours later the angel woke.

He immediately looked at his surroundings, they were in a concrete room that only had three walls, through the space where there was supposed to be a wall, Castiel could see another room with three concrete walls and no windows except were this one had no wall the other had thick metal bars. Seeing no immediate danger he pushed himself up and stood. His vessel's bones creaked at the suddenness of the movement but Castiel paid no mind. Quickly he examined the brothers, they two were relatively unharmed, just a few cuts and bruises and Sam had a minor concussion. Castiel placed his hands on the brothers for heads and healed their wounds. Dean woke with a gasp halfway through Castiel's healing, and sat up quickly, letting out a soft groan that was loud enough to wake up Sam.

"What happened?" Sam hissed as he rubbed his head.

"Cass?" Dean looked at the angel kneeling next to him, hand still holding Dean's shoulder from when he healed him.

"I got us as far as I could. It was imperative that you both survive" Castiel stood and looked around the room, avoiding both of the brother's eyes.

Dean slowly stood "What do you mean Cass?" Dean walked forwards, catching the angels eyes, "Where are we?"

"2022"

The air rushed out of Dean's lungs so fast that even Sam heard it from where he had ventured out into the hallway.

Castiel watched as Dean spun away from him and ran his hand through his hair, gripping it so tight that Castiel was faintly concerned that he might rip it out. Dean turned back to face the angel and clenched his fists

"Why?" Dean voice was hardly more than a growl, "Why would you bring us 12 years into the future?"

Castiel tilted his head, "The apocalypse, Dean. Lucifer began to rise, I was told to get you and your brother out and to safety. The plan changed slightly, but you are both safe"

"Slightly! Cass we are _twelve years_ into the _future_!"

"Not to mention that the apocalypse happened" Sam joined the argument

"How many survived? After those dicks destroyed the world, how many did Lucifer and Michael kill?"

"Michael was the first to die" at that the brothers fell silent, "After Lucifer stabbed him in the back, he and his army of demons marched into Heaven. Many angels died, it was then that I was told to take the both of you to the Men of Letters headquarters. Before I got there, Lucifer had reached the Throne Room, and killed God. He wanted you to be safe for a reason, Dean."

The brothers were silent, "What happened to the humans?" Sam's voice wasn't that loud but, Dean flinched slightly at the question.

"From my knowledge, they survived longer that Lucifer had intended. They began to fight back, killing monsters and demons as they found them. The croatoan disease was getting worse, but they managed to fence and ward safe places so they could sleep at night. The surviving hunters were beyond useful, teaching the others how to ward and fight." Castiel looked at the other two before continuing, "Bobby was invaluable, with his knowledge and large amount of resources he helped whenever he could. Lucifer saw Bobby and the other hunters as a thorn in his side and sent demons to kill them. Bobby fended them off for a few days before he died."

Dean swallowed thickly. His eyes had begun to prickle and his throat was suddenly scratchy. "How-" Dean cleared his throat before he started again, "How did he die? Where is he now?"

Castiel tilted his head slightly, he knew how Bobby died, it was bloody and messy. A painful way to die, as Lucifer had commanded it. Castiel looked away, "His neck was snapped in two"

"And his body? Where is in now?"

In lucifer's new kingdom, a trophy frozen in time. Lining the golden streets of Heaven, along with the bodies of angels and other hunters all frozen in the time of their death like ghastly statues.

"He had a hunter's burial. Burned by the other hunters."

Dean's shoulders relaxed but his eyes betrayed him when a tear fell from each, he quickly wiped them away. Behind him Sam had a knowing look in his eyes, when Cass's eyes met it Sam gave a small watery smile.

"We should get outta here" Dean's voice wavered slightly but Sam and Castiel pretended not to hear it.

"Do you know where we are Cass?" Sam had walked back out to the hallway, his back was to them as he asked the question, "I'm pretty sure this is a jail, but I have no idea where we are"

Castiel closed his eyes and let his grace search the area; he could feel Dean and Sam shiver when it surrounded them. There was a strange feeling as his grace filled the room and explored the area though, Castiel frowned and concentrated on the feeling surrounding him. It was dark and nipping at his grace, getting stronger as he watched. Then suddenly it was everywhere, surrounding his grace, tearing through it and reaching for his vessel, it hit him full force. The whole process was painful and terrifying, what was so strong that could rip through his grace like that? What could climb inside his vessel and attack him from the inside? He didn't know of anything. All he knew was that it was _painful_. His hand when to his chest and pushed at the feeling. Dean turned towards him and spoke but, he couldn't hear anything, his vision started to get foggy. Castiel hunched over, holding his chest, grunting slightly as something inside of him was _pulled out_. The pain he felt before felt next to nothing against this. He couldn't hold back the scream that ripped its way out. The sound made the brothers fall to their knees and cover their ears. Castiel started to rip at his coat, lumps moved underneath it, growing bigger and bigger. Then the coat was torn open, two black masses spread out from the angels back. They were damp and covered in blood that ran down Castiel's back and pooled around his body.

Wings.

Castiel had stopped screaming; instead he was on his knees his forehead pressed into the hard soil. As they watched the dripping wings they began to shake, the blood splattered around the room. All the Winchesters could do was stare at the black feathers that dripped the blood of an angel.

The angel, Castiel, began to cry.

The noise shocked the brothers into action, they each went to his side and lifted him from the ground.

"Come on Cass" Dean grunted, "We have to leave, something would've heard that"

"Dean, the bag" Sam nodded his head in the direction of the duffel bag that was innocently sitting where they left it.

"Just grab it, Sam. I'll hold Cass"

Sam ducked under the angels arm and ran to pick up the bag; he chucked it over one shoulder then quickly made his way back to Dean and Castiel, once again grabbing Castiel's arm and pulling it over his shoulder. Sam had to hunch over slightly, but it was a lot faster with both helping than just Dean holding Castiel's now -thanks to the wings- much heavier weight.

Slowly they made their way out of the building. Dean led them out of the cell and down the abandoned hallway; they had just rounded a corner when they heard a deep voice whisper.

_He will be happy. Yesss, very happy indeed._

A dull thump of something heavy hitting the ground then a wet slithering sound made the brothers hold their breath.

_The last angel. I smell its blood… my Lord will be happy… angel, I smell your blood..._

From all around them things hissed.

_Angel…_

_Angel…_

_Angel…_

Something whispered. Like a chant they whispered the one word over and over.

_Angel…_

_Angel…_

_Angel..._

Something growled. It was in the air, in the ground, in the walls. In their heads.

_Angel…_

_Angel…_

_Angel…_

It was getting closer.

_Where are you, little angel?_

The brothers jumped when Castiel suddenly groaned and began to mutter under his breath. Most of it was in another language, but then he began to speak English.

"Demon, curse" Dean's eyes grew wide when the voices became closer. Quickly he slapped a hand over Cass's mouth.

The whispering quieted slightly as it went into the room they had appeared in.

"Come on, we've gotta go now" Sam whispered

They once again started out of the building, finding two big metal doors. Sam let Dean support Cass as he pushed open the doors.

They weren't prepared for the sight that was revealed to them.

"What the hell!?" Dean mumbled, he momentarily forgot about the weight he was struggling under as he looked at the surrounding landscape. The walls were crumbled and the fences fallen, but it was defiantly clear now that they had appeared in an abandoned prison.

"Move Dean, It's getting closer!"

Quickly Dean dragged Castiel through the open door, Sam silently shut the door behind them, then resumed his place on Castiel's other side. Together they made their way out of the space where a high security gate use to be. Whatever was inside didn't follow them out, but they heard it scream. All three of them flinched as it echoed of the dark buildings around them. Sam immediately sped up the pace and headed towards the closest building, Castiel's wings left bloody tracks in the dirt. They reached the building and Sam pushed the door open and led the other two into the darkness, it was and abandoned watch tower by the looks of it, there was a chair toppled on it side which Sam quickly righted and helped Dean sit Castiel down. As soon as he sat Castiel doubled over, his head hanging between his knees. Sam and Dean shared a look, Sam's eyes were wide and his eyes darted down to Cass. Dean frowned and raised his hands, palms upwards. Sam frowned and gestured to the black, blood soaked wings that were hanging limply over the back of the chair.

Dean gave Sam one last look before he walked around to kneel in front of Cass.

"Cass, we gotta get out of here, but we need to know where we are first"

Castiel's wings shuddered, splattering drops of blood.

"Cass?"

"London" his voice showed the strain he was under

"Good. That's good Cass. Do you know where in London?" Dean put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, carefully not touching the wings.

"I-I didn't " The angels body starts to shake uncontrollably, his wings started to stretch out, still shaking. Sam quickly backed away to avoid being hit by them.

"Hey, Cass, its okay" Dean raised his other hand and put it on Castiel's other shoulder, "It's okay if you don't know"

Castiel slowly folds his wings again and he calms down and manages to stop shaking. Dean watches as Castiel closes his eyes again and between one blink and the next, the blood is gone from his wings and his coat is in one piece.

"So, what's with the wings Cass?" Dean stands and Castiel straightens his back to sit up with a grimace.

"I am certain it was a curse, one that Lucifer cast" Castiel spreads his wings, they aren't fully stretched out but, it takes Dean's breath away.

"I'm not quite sure I like it" Castiel tells them, also inspecting his wings.

"What? They look awesome Cass!" Dean reaches for a wing but it jumps out of his reach before he could even touch it. With a snap Castiel's wings are folded tightly against his back.

"Umm, I think we should move to somewhere else" Dean's head jerks in the direction Sam's voice came from. Sam is awkwardly standing in the corner as far away as he can possibly be from Dean and Castiel; from where he is standing he can see the window behind Dean. And the many figures heading towards them.

"Cass, can you uh, fly still?" Dean glances out the window then turns back to Castiel

Castiel gives him a look that Dean is sure says _I-am-an-angel-of-the-lord-your-lucky-I'm-not-smiting-you_

"I am an angel of the lord" Dean nearly has a heart attack when Castiel utters those words, almost sure that Castiel has been in his head, "Nothing can stop me from flying" with that Castiel reaches for Deans shoulder, and gestures for Sam to come closer. Less than three long strides later Castiel has a hand on Sam's shoulder and his wings are snapping out. The wings literally carve through the concrete walls is if they were made of water, the walls begin to cave in and the roof comes toppling down in a shower of concrete, metal and dust.

But the Angel and the hunters are already gone.

The three of them appeared in the middle of a street, the buildings were abandoned and half destroyed. Sam noticed with interest that vines as thick as his thigh and thorns as long as his fingers were climbing up the buildings and disappearing through the smashed windows.

"Where are we?" Sam asked absently as he took in the surroundings

"Lauriston Gardens" Castiel told them

"Still in London aren't we?" Dean asked, also taking in his surroundings

"Yeah" Sam turned in spot to view the building closest to them. It was an old apartment building, the bricks were old and faded but Sam guessed that they would have been an orangey-red colour before the apocalypse.

"So, why here?" Dean and Castiel continued to talk as Sam looked around.

"There is a safe house of sorts not far from here" Castile told the older Winchester. Sam turned towards the other two, about to ask about the safe house, when a scream pierced the strange silence. It was so sudden that they all flinched.

"That's coming from the safe house!" Castiel gave them no warning before he grabbed them both, wings flaring.

They appeared seconds later to complete and utter chaos.

**And there we have it, how the brothers and the angle survived the apocalypse! Did you like the surprise (WINGS FRIGGIN' WINGS!)!? Please review!**

**I'm really nervous about writing the next chapter, I haven't watched much Doctor Who and I'm freaking out cause I don't want to get his character wrong! So if anyone has a few pointers for me please share!**

**I've been trying to make the chapters longer but I just can't! I always end up somewhere near the 3000 mark! I'm also really concerned about the chapters, are they really boring? Do they just not sound right? I don't know… I always feel like they aren't good enough...**

**Next chapter The New Age (Doctor Who)**

**Here is a little thing from the extra I wrote for then last chapter!**

_**Mycroft quickly turned and continued down the hall to his room. He placed Sherlock on the bed then went back and shut the door, then locked it.**_

_**"Under the bed Sherlock" Mycroft whispered**_

_**Sherlock slipped of the bed and crawled under the bed, Mycroft unfolded the blanket that was sitting on the end of his bed and stretched it out across the bed till the edges on it touched to ground.**_

_**"Don't make any noise" Mycroft whispered to him, Sherlock didn't answer.**_

_**Mycroft crept over to the door and stood so that when to door opened they wouldn't see him.**_

_**As he stood against the wall, voices from down stairs drifted up, he heard something being said in another language, one that he suspected was Latin, but couldn't be sure. Then something crashed. He heard yelling, then their mother screaming. Sherlock whimpered from under then bed.**_

**Would you like to see more?**

**~'Shadowhunters: Looking Better In Black Than The Widows Of Our Enemies Since 1234.'**

**-Jace Wayland, City of Bones, Cassandra Clare**


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